


Karma Boomerang

by JWMelmoth



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWMelmoth/pseuds/JWMelmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is expelled from Dalton after the steroids incident and sent to NY to graduate in a special program. His parents have found him a tutor for his weak courses…guess who?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written between 2013 (mid s4) to early 2014 for a self-set daily writing challenge; First published on tumblr. AU after 4x12.

“But dad, this is outrageous! I’m being _framed_ ,” Sebastian protests as soon as the Dalton committee retreats to decide on his fate, leaving him and his father in the Dean’s office.

“Are you?” Mr Smythe sr replies, giving his son a calculating look.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and throws up his hands. “Yes! Look, Clarington used me. He set me up. He knew everyone was gonna point their fingers at me-”

“And why do you think that is, Sebastian?” his father asks. “Let’s see, shall we?”

Sebastian frowns and works his jaw, not commenting. He knows that when his father goes all court-style rhetoric on him, it’s best not to interrupt.

“You stay out past Dalton’s boarding curfew despite several warnings. You get caught spiking your coffee with liquor at the _school cafeteria_. A random locker search-”

“There was _no way_ that was random!” Sebastian interjects, but his father continues without taking note of him, ticking the points against him off on his fingers.

“…came up with not one but _three_ false IDs among your possessions, and you were seriously implicated in the incident with that Anderson kid. Those are reason enough to suspect you, Sebastian.” His father gives him a look of well-trained courtroom disdain before making his final point. “And they don’t even know of your expulsion from the Louis Le Grand.”

Sebastian turns away, glaring angrily out of the window. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of his dad. All of that stuff is actually true (though 2 of the IDs were for other students and he is pretty sure they fingered him for the ‘random’ search to get out of trouble) but it’s all in the past. Ever since that thing with David and the McKinley kids, he has behaved himself and followed all of the rules of Dalton and general conduct, which basically means he’s had the most boring 6 months of his life. He was hoping _someone_ might have noticed. But just as Blaine automatically suspected he had taken the Nationals trophy, the Dalton Board is ready to lap up Clarington’s story about the steroids. Army boys can’t do wrong; blame it all on the boy on probation. It’s so unfair he could scream, if a little voice inside of him wasn’t whispering _it’s your own fault_ even louder. Apparently, behaving himself and dedicating their Nationals performance to David didn’t score him enough karma points, and his past is now hitting him in the face like a boomerang.

“I didn’t do it,” he says despite everything.

“You might as well have,” Mr Smythe sr says harshly. “There’s literally no one in this school who will vouch for you, and with your word against Mr Clarington’s, it makes a case I wouldn’t accept.”

Sebastian turns back to face his dad. “So what are you saying?” he asks, for the first time starting to feel like there may be more than house arrest at stake here. Until now he assumed his dad had come to get him out of this.

His father shrugs. “We’ll settle. Accept your expulsion in return for them not taking it to juvenile court.”

“But…it’s my senior year,” Sebastian stammers. “I _have_ to graduate! I was already set back a year after Paris!”

His father gives him a hard look as he breathes out slowly through his nose, and Sebastian bites his tongue. He doesn’t want his dad to launch into yet another list of his misconduct. Mr Smythe sr shakes his head as if he can’t believe he’s doing this. “There’s a special program for students who need a fast track to graduation after long absences or home-schooling. It’s in New York. Your mother has agreed to move there with you to make you eligible.”

“New York?” Sebastian repeats, blinking. He was expecting something a lot worse. That actually sounds _better_ than grovelling to the Board to stay at Dalton in Ohio.

“You can wipe that smile off your face, Sebastian. You’ll be grounded until you graduate, and I have already found you a tutor for French and Maths. It’s not going to be some sort of extended holiday.”

Sebastian nods quickly. Living with his mom, grounded, tutor, got it. Whatever. He is sure his mother will let the line slack after a few weeks and then it’s Big Apple Party Time. Maybe he should send Hunter a thank-you card.

The door opens and Sebastian’s father gives him a last warning look. Sebastian quickly schools his face into a demure expression and folds his arms behind his back. Time to watch his dad do his attorney magic.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ll be back at seven. And remember honey, your tutor will be here-”

 “At five, I know, mom,” Sebastian replies dutifully, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since they moved to New York, she’s been treating him like a baby. He’s not allowed to go anywhere but to school- a driver takes him there. Still, it could be worse. They live in a hotel suite, so the food is excellent, and being grounded to a thirty-story luxury palace isn’t nearly as restrictive as boarding at Dalton. There’s a gym and a pool in the basement, flatscreens in every room, and personnel to clean up after 

“Money’s on the table in the hall. Love you, baby. Bye!” his mom calls out.

Money. Sebastian wonders if they have set a specific rate with his tutor- maybe he can shave a little off the fee each time and save up some emergency party cash. His trust fund is frozen and his credit cards confiscated. His father has made it pretty near impossible for him to have a good time. But where there’s a will, there’s a way…

“Bye!” Sebastian yells from the living room and listens for the door to close and the soft *ding* of the elevator. When he is sure his mom is gone, he puts his homework away. There’ll be time for that at five after all.

Sebastian connects his PS3 and plays for a few hours, forgetting all about his tutor. Then there’s a call from the receptionist that someone’s there to see him. “Send them up,” Sebastian tells them, and walks to the door of the hotel suite, quickly pocketing the money from the hall table on his way there. When he opens the door and sees a tall, broadshouldered guy in sunglasses walk up from the elevator, he whistles softly between his teeth. Everything’s better in New York- especially the guys. He prepares to put on a winning smile (also making a mental checklist of all the pick-up lines he can ask ‘help with’ in French) when the man reaches his door and whips off his sunglasses. His eyes are narrowed and there’s crimson in his cheeks.

“What are you doing here, Sebastian?” Kurt hisses.

“Me? _You_ came to _my_ place, Kurt,” Sebastian replies, trying to hide his shock in a defensive stance, as if he is about to physically block him from entering the suite.

  
“ _Your_ place? I’m here to see Mrs Pankhurst.” Kurt hikes up his shoulder bag and gives Sebastian an annoyed look. “I’m here about the tutoring job.”

 “That’s my mom,” Sebastian says, his voice low with dread. “She kept her maiden name, one of the conditions of their pre-nups together with grandpa’s dough.”

 Kurt stares at him for a moment, but recovers quickly. “ _You’re_ the kid who needs tutoring after a long illness kept him from school?”

"Ah, I was wondering with which version they were gonna go,” Sebastian replies, not really surprised. Before Kurt can ask, he adds: “Dalton expelled me to appease well-funding parents and alumni after the steroid thing.” When Kurt makes large eyes at him (which make him look deceptively like a Disney forest animal), Sebastian can’t help but feel a little defensive. “It wasn’t me, okay? I didn’t even take any. Like I need that, right?”

Kurt doesn’t reply, but cocks his head sceptically, which doubles Sebastian’s efforts to defend himself. “Hunter framed me. They were all just jumping at the chance to believe him over me.”

“And why would that be?” Kurt asks, in an unnerving echo of his father.

  
“I didn’t make anyone take drugs,” Sebastian insists.

  
“But you didn’t stop them either,” Kurt replies matter-of-factly.

  
Sebastian frowns. Should he have? He goes by a pretty standard 'each man for his own’ code. If the others felt they needed to boost their performance… A little voice inside nags at him, reminding him that he _knew_ Hunter was using coercion on the other Warblers, but he squashes it down. It isn’t his problem. Not anymore- Dalton is over and done with. He straightens his shoulders. “Look, whatever. I already got expelled and grounded until after graduation. It’s not your job to judge me. In fact, you don’t have a job here at all. I’ll just tell my mom you were a no-show and we both live happily ever after. On your way, Hummel.”

  
“What? No!” Kurt protests. “I need this job.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  
“Why? Hit the limit on your daddy’s emergency credit card buying hair products?”

  
“At least I have hair to put product on,” Kurt counters. “I see you just gave up and got it buzzed. Or did they do that in juvie?”

  
Sebastian opens his mouth and closes it again. Kurt’s words remind him of the fate he escaped by a hair (no pun intended) because of his father’s intervention; who is not above threatening him with that every time he complains about his new school. Getting a tutor was part of the deal, and as much as Sebastian hates to admit it, he actually needs one. He can’t risk not graduating.

  
“Did my mom tell you how much we’ll pay you?” he asks testily.

  
“Thirty-five per hour,” Kurt replies. “I got until eight today, that’s when my shift at the diner starts.”

  
“You have another job?” Sebastian asks, a little surprised.

  
“Two; but my internship at Vogue doesn’t pay.”

  
“What do you need _three_ jobs for?”

  
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Do you have any idea what living in New York costs?” His eyes leave Sebastian and glance at the hallway of the suite. “I guess not,” he answers his own question.

Sebastian tries hard to find a clever retort, but comes up empty. It’s amazing how, after feeling so superior over Kurt in high school, he’s suddenly left feeling childish. Kurt graduated before him, lives and works in New York, all on his own, while _he_ lives with mommy and needs a tutor. He clenches his jaw and checks his watch. If he kicks Kurt out shortly after six but tells his mom he stayed until seven, he has 35 dollars for his party fund. “Fine. Come in. And the hour starts when we actually start French, I’m not paying you for small talk.”

“ _Ready when you are, Mr Smythe_ ,” Kurt says, transitioning into French smoothly, his voice dropping about an octave as he does (which is not sexy at all, Sebastian sternly tells his brain which has decided to send all blood rushing south) and he steps around Sebastian and saunters in.

 

 

*

“So, what are we doing?” Kurt asks, pretending to be nonplussed by the hotel suite (Sebastian can tell he’s impressed though, by the way his eyes take in the interior and his hand idly stroking the plush of the couch.) “What’s your problem area? Reading, writing…oral skills?” Kurt has the nerve to smirk a little. 

Sebastian narrows his eyes. “My _oral skills_ are fine. Never had any complaints.”

“Prove it,” Kurt counters, dropping down on the sofa and smoothing down the fabric of his pants, his hands lingering on his thighs.

Sebastian blinks. “Uh-” he starts.

“ _En français, Sebastien_ ,” Kurt reminds him, and Sebastian finally understands what he wants. He clears his throat.

“ _Uh, hello, how are you, my name is Sebastian, I am eighteen years old. I live in, uh…New York…and Kurt is being the stupid..ah…face_ ,” he says, and sits down on the chair opposite of Kurt, giving him a defiant look.

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess,” he says, “those first sentences are textbook stuff you learned by heart, and the last was…improvised?”

“ _I have a genie_ ,” Sebastian says.

Kurt laughs. “Where? In your pants?” He shakes his head in mirth. “I see we have a lot of work to do. I thought you lived in Paris once upon a time? Or was that just a line to get Blaine interested in you?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Sebastian says, a little annoyed that Kurt isn’t impressed. Deep inside he knows his grammar needs work. So far he has always made up with self-confidence, but clearly it’s been too long since he’d actually had to make the effort. His teachers at Dalton stopped quizzing him halfway through last year, and he hasn’t practised at all since then. Being on the Warblers got him a lot of free passes. “I’m just a little rusty,” he mumbles.

“Right,” Kurt agreed. “Then we’ll start by rehashing the verbs 'to be’ and 'to have’ and when to use which, and we’ll take it from there.” He takes a notepad from his bag and writes down a list of personal pronouns. “And by the way,” Kurt says, keeping his eyes on his paper, “I charge five dollars extra for each time you call me anything other than my name. The rate has just gone up to forty.”

“What?!” Sebastian lets out, seeing his party fund dwindle. “My mom won’t stand for that.”

Kurt looks up. “ _Your mom_ thinks you need help interpreting Sartre. Do you really want me to tell her you can’t even insult me without errors?”

Sebastian glares at him, but doesn’t argue. “You upped your game since high school, Hummel,” he says finally.

“We all have to grow up some time, Sebastian,” Kurt replies, and hands him the sheet and his pen. “Now conjugate.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian’s party funds are still at 0 dollars, but he can’t really bring himself to mind. The day before, his mother had surprised them both at seven. Once he and Kurt started practising his French, Sebastian had lost track of time and had forgotten to kick Kurt out in time to pocket the extra money. As it turned out, his French wasn’t really all that bad- just buried deep within his passive memory. Repeating verb forms and tenses helped him remember and by the time Kurt left, Sebastian could construct simple sentences without Kurt laughing at him. Not wanting to be mocked by his highschool nemesis was a rather good motivator.

But their old rivalry wasn’t the only reason Sebastian wanted to show Kurt his best side. New York suited Kurt well, in all senses of the word- he looked, dressed and behaved more interesting than he had in Lima. While still stylish, his outfit no longer screamed for attention; and there was a mature, wizened look in his eyes. Sebastian had tried to ask him questions to find out what he had been up to- Kurt insisted they did that in French, and would only answer the question if it was grammatically correct. His answers had Sebastian reach for the dictionary more than once, which amused Kurt greatly.

In the two hours that they practised, Sebastian had found out that Kurt now studied at NYADA, lived in Bushwhick with Rachel and Santana and had taken on an internship at Vogue-dot-com. When he tried to dig a little deeper to hear about Kurt’s love life, it was like he hit a minefield. Kurt’s intolerance of his errors became ruthless, and he refused to answer anything more than a simple ’ _non_ ’ to Sebastian’s question if he was still with Blaine. It was interesting. So much, in fact, that Sebastian is already kind of looking forward to his next tutoring session… and how screwed up is _that_?

But first, he has to get maths out of the way. He is only a little disappointed when he gets down to the hotel lobby and finds a very young looking girl waiting for him on one of the hotel’s plush seats. She has a folder and a calculator out in front of her on the table, but she’s playing a colourful game on her mobile phone as he walks up to her. _Oh well_ , he muses. _They can’t all look like male models, right?_ Otherwise he’d never get any studying done. Sebastian casually puts his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. The girl looks up and seems momentarily distracted before she pulls herself together. She gets up, shakes his hand and introduces herself. Her skin is very warm, and Sebastian imagines her cheeks to be even hotter. He basks in her admiration for a moment before nodding at her things.

“Do you want to take that up to my suite?” he asks.

The girl smiles. “I want to, but I won’t. I don’t know you, so we’re doing this here, in public. It was one of my conditions when I talked to your mom.”

Sebastian cocks his head. “You’re a smart girl.” He smirked. “But then, you’re a maths tutor so I should have known that.” He could tell her she’s in absolutely no danger from him, but what would be the fun in that? After Kurt wiped the floor with him during his tutoring session, it will be nice to keep this tutor on her toes.

The girl smiles, pleased with the compliment.

“So, any other conditions I should know about? What fee did you agree on?” he asks, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for her to sit down next to him. She blushes and does so.

“Um, I wasn’t sure what to ask, I never did this before. I was thinking maybe twenty dollars…?” she says, hesitating a little.

_Score_ , Sebastian thinks, and offers her a winning smile. “Oh, don’t be modest,” he says. “Let’s make it twenty-five and a coffee.” He holds up his hand and one of the hotel waiters comes down from the bar.

“Okay,” the girl agrees, looking impressed that the staff is at his beck and call, and Sebastian mentally sets aside 15$ for his next weekend. Maths is not that bad.  
  
*

His next session with Kurt is on a Saturday afternoon, and Sebastian has decided to make a move on him. He’s never been one for long courting periods, so his set-up is rather unsubtle. Still, he is feeling quite confident. He is well aware of his assets and he plans to show them off.

When Kurt arrives at the gym, Sebastian has already been at the machines for half an hour, and he’s now stretching his long legs on the treadmill. He’s wearing shorts and a loose muscle shirt. A rolled up towel is draped around his neck.

“I got your message,” Kurt said, holding up his phone as he steps into the room, looking around. There was no one there but them. “Why are we meeting here?” He holds his bag in front of his chest like some sort of shield.

“My weekends are pretty busy,” Sebastian says, breathing audibly as he jogs. “I figured we could multi-task.” He reaches for his water bottle and takes a sip before splashing some of it down his neck for effect. Kurt watches him for a moment and then pointedly looks away. Sebastian smiles. So far so good.

“So have you practised like I told you?” Kurt asks, still looking away.

“ _Oui_. I watched the news and have learned that Gerard Depardieu pissed himself in an airplane, and Beyoncé has her ass insured for two million euros.”

Kurt looks back at him, a surprised look on his face.   
  
“Oh yeah,” Sebastian assures him. “One million per cheek.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I told you to watch the _news_ , not the gossip magazine,” he scolds not unkindly.

“This was more fun,” Sebastian replies. “Besides…I tried watching the real news, but I only understood, like, every fourth word. I think-” he adds, keeping up his jog, “I need a tutor after all.” He offers Kurt a smile that is designed to look humble and a little hopeful. Surely Mr Hummel is susceptible for some flattery?

“Hmmm,” Kurt agrees, his eyes lingering a little too long on Sebastian’s form to be purely platonic. “Well, I have a list of news and newspaper keywords in my old textbook from McKinley. I’ll copy the page for you.”

“Great!” Sebastian says, and dabs the towel at his face. “So, I have also been practising the following…Ahem… _Why did you and Blaine break up? Was it to start with a clean slate and no baggage in New York?_ ” Sebastian spent a long time perfecting the grammar on that sentence and his pronunciation is passable, so Kurt has to answer it now, right?

Kurt’s face closes up. It’s like he draws up visible shields around him. “No,” he replies, “No more questions. It’s your turn now, Sebastian.” He puts some distance between the two of them and inspects some of the work-out equipment. “ _What is your favourite food? Favourite colour? Do you have any siblings? How tall are you- no, in the metric system?_ ” Kurt’s practise-questions are textbook stuff, and completely dull. Sebastian answers them anyway. Anything to get rid of the sudden tension his question had caused between them.

After a while, Kurt relaxes a bit again and his questions ease up, become more playful and a little more personal.   
_  
“What would you do if you could be invisible for a day?”  
_ _“-ah… watch the olympic swimming team take showers.”_

_“Dogs or cats?”_  
_“Dogs. I don’t trust cats. And they always stare at me like I am beneath them.”  
_ _“Maybe you are…”_

_“If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”_  
_“Nothing. I’m perfect the way I am.”  
_ _“Nothing at all?”_

Kurt has walked back to the treadmill and is looking at him, his head titled a little to the side, his eyes inquisitive. Sebastian punches the controls of his machine to up the tempo to a punishing run. He soon runs out of breath but refuses to slow down. He jogs for a while in silence before admitting defeat, and sets the machine to a slow cool-down walk.  
  
Kurt looks at his phone to check the time. “Maybe I should go,” he says. “I don’t think we should continue our little Q&A in the showers.”

That brings a smile back to Sebastian’s lips and he shrugs as if to say ‘why not?’. Kurt slings his bag over his shoulder and kind of lingers. Sebastian grins.

“The money’s in my pocket,” he says, and enjoys the brief glance (including raised eyebrow) that Kurt gives his shorts. “Of my jeans,” Sebastian clarifies, and nods at the pile of clothes on one of the benches. He makes no effort to get off the treadmill. It is important to do a decent cool-down, after all. And besides, this is all part of his plan.

Kurt waits a moment, sighs, and goes over to the bench. He pushes the shirt aside to get at the jeans and gingerly slips two slim fingers into the front pocket, grimacing as if he is excepting a snake to slither out and bite him. He feels around a bit and then gives up and reaches inside with his whole hand to pull out the pocket’s contents. He empties his hand on the shirt. Next to a few folded banknotes, out spill several coins, a cufflink, a few sticks of gum, a strip of condoms (XL) and a playing card with a phone number scribbled on it. “ _Really_ , Smythe?” Kurt mumbles under his breath, and extracts a fifty dollar bill. “I don’t have change for this,” he says.

“Sweet, then I get to call you two names,” Sebastian says and winks at him. Kurt’s expression hardens as if he’s bracing himself. “That was a joke,” Sebastian clarifies, “just take it as an advance for next time.”

“Right,” Kurt says, tucking the bill into his bag. 

Sebastian stops the treadmill and gets off, wiping his face on the towel. “So,” he says, slightly short of breath, “what are you doing tonight?”

“Why?” Kurt asks testily, though he looks a little less guarded than before. 

Sebastian shrugs. “Just wondering. I’m new around here, so…”

“Um, Callbacks with Rachel and Santana I guess. It’s a place where NYADA students hang out.”

“Cool,” Sebastian replies, and Kurt smirks.

“It is, if you like spontaneous Broadway duets,” he says. “It’s not the kind of place where people come to, um… _play cards_.” Kurt nods at Sebastian’s things.

Sebastian grins. “I might show up anyway. You know, if I get really bored. It’s been ages since I heard Berry’s Barbra Streisand imitation.”

Kurt just rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he starts to leave. “If you do, please shower first,” he calls out over his shoulder. Sebastian watches him go. His funds are now down to 5$, but things could have gone worse.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sebastian enters Callbacks, a young woman is doing a rendition of _Don’t Cry for Me Argentina_ , and in response, Sebastian heads straight to the bar. If he wants to last long enough in this place to pick Kurt up, he’s going to need alcohol. Prices are steep and he grudgingly surrenders his complete party fund for one measly drink. At least it has vodka in it. He downs half of it in one go, and scans the room for Kurt. Sebastian’s still not exactly sure what he wants from him (well, he’s sure about what he wants from him _tonight_ , but undecided about what comes afterwards), but he’s always been a bit of an ‘act now, think later’ kind of guy. His main plan is to get Kurt to sleep with him, and then he’ll figure out the rest afterwards.  
  
Finding him is trickier than he thought. The place is pretty crowded, and there are several brown-haired young men lounging about who have a similar physique. Any other time, he might have just gone for one of them, but Sebastian justifies his instant dismissal of anyone who is not Kurt with two pretty solid reasons: he has already put in the ground work with Kurt at the gym, and anyone else might require buying them drinks which he can’t afford. Satisfied with this explanation of his motives, he moves around the bar, trying to ignore the sentimental music in the background.

“Well, if it isn’t my second-least favourite blazer gay,” a sultry voice whispers in his ear. Sebastian frowns and turns around. Ah. Roommate nr 1.

“Lopez,” he replies, smirking. “Only your second-least favourite? I must work on my game.”

“Yeah, well, work it somewhere else, okay? I’m sure there’s a street corner available for you down town.”

Sebastian snorts. Hooker jokes are pretty rich coming from the girl who dresses in skirts that are more like oversized belts. A fantastic your-mom-joke pops up in his mind and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep it from spilling out. Something tells him picking a fight with Kurt’s roomie will considerably lower his chances of getting laid. “Thanks for the tip,” he says instead, raises his glass in a toast and drains it.

Santana looks sceptical at the lack of response and crosses her arms. “So what are you doing here, Smythe? Kurt told us you were in New York, but surely there are places better suited for you than Callbacks.”

“Why is that?” Sebastian asks, raising his voice a little to be heard over the music. A man has started singing David Bowie’s _Magic Dance_ , and a group of people around are shouting the chorus of goblins.

Santana smirks at him, clearly pleased he is giving her the opportunity to throw in another insult. “People come here to sing,” she says. “The lack of condom vending machines in the men’s room might be a bit of a hint that your clientèle is not wanted here.”

_Okay, screw being nice. This one’s too easy,_ Sebastian thinks. “You’ve been in the men’s room, then? I heard you no longer drove stick. But I guess everyone needs to make exceptions now and then when rent is due.”

Santana’s eyes flash, but to Sebastian’s surprise, she laughs and raises her hands in a gesture of truce. “So what _are_ you doing here?” she asks, friendlier this time. “You’re not thinking about going to NYADA too, are you? Because the prospect of Anderson becoming a regular here soon is terrifying enough. I really don’t need all of Ohio’s twinks running down this bar.”

_And there would be her least-favourite Daltonian_ , Sebastian muses. He wonders if it’s connected to Kurt’s terseness on the topic of Blaine. “God no,” he replies honestly, “I really don’t see the point in going to college to study becoming unemployed. I’m here for Kurt.” He looks around. “He said he’d be here.”

Santana gives him a quizzical look. “He is,” she replies, and glances towards the stage. Sebastian follows her eyes and swallows. Not only is it Kurt singing the Labyrinth song - he’s wearing the pants, too. And Sebastian clearly isn’t the only one who’s planning on taking him home tonight.

Kurt’s 'singing goblins’ are all guys vying for his attention, surrounding the stage like hungry sharks around a diving cage. One hands him a drink as Kurt dances his way, another actually has the audacity to stuff a business card in the waistband of those dangerously tight pants. Sebastian starts to feel a lot less secure about his chances, especially as he sees Kurt lean down to a broad shouldered blond man in a beanie and sings how he’ll be 'his’ soon. Kurt owns the song and looks very aware of the effect his 'magic dance’ has on his audience.  It reminds Sebastian of the way Kurt always managed to counter his insults back in school- with his head held high, filled with an inner sense of superiority. Suddenly Sebastian realises that it might have always found that extremely hot.

And then something happens that hasn’t happened to Sebastian before. He loses his confidence. He can’t see himself going up to the stage to stand among Kurt’s suitors, who all look like they are seniors while he’s still in high school. He can’t imagine anything more embarrassing than being turned down by Kurt Hummel (with Santana Lopez and a bar full of singing hipsters as witnesses). His ego might never recover. He mumbles an excuse to Santana and leaves. His money is gone anyway, and suddenly the risk of being found out by his mom (he’s still not allowed to go out) seems more trouble than it’s worth.  
  
*

“I think I’m keeping these pants,” Kurt declares as he rejoins Santana at their table. He had borrowed them from the Vogue vault for the evening after Isabelle had made him work so late he didn’t have time to go home and change before meeting Santana and Rachel at Callbacks. He had been planning to return them after having them dry-cleaned, but… maybe not. It’s not like anyone would notice anyway. He wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Where’s Rachel?” he asks.

Santana shrugs like she barely noticed her roommate was gone. She has more interesting news. “Guess who was just here,” she says.

Kurt looks around the bar. “Who?” Did he miss someone famous?

“Sebastian Smythe,” Santana replies. “I told him to get lost.” She offers Kurt a smug look.

“Why did you do that?” Kurt asks, very surprised by the news. Sebastian had actually come?

“Well, doh. He’s _Sebastian Smythe_ ,” Santana repeats. “We hate that kid’s guts, remember? After all the shit he pulled back in Lima-”

Kurt shrugs. Of course he remembers, but the main reason he had for disliking the guy- his constant attention towards Blaine- was no longer relevant. And during his tutoring sessions, Kurt had found out that Sebastian actually was a reasonable conversationalist and had a nice sense of humour, if he wasn’t using it to pick insults. It kind of felt like he had changed; grown up a little. “Did he say anything?” Kurt asks.

Santana raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Something about going to find a place where they play cards. Does he have a gambling problem or something?”

Kurt sighs. So much for growing up. “Something like that.”  
  
*

Sebastian is in a bad mood. So bad he already killed one of his characters in his favourite game, set off the smoke alarm in the bathroom (causing the sprinklers to go on, drenching his clothes and the pack of cigarettes stolen from his mom’s purse) and called room service twice only to cancel his orders five minutes later. He has never backed down from a challenge. Never. Especially not when it comes to conquests. Not even when he finally saw Blaine in real life. (When the Warblers told him about Blaine they had forgotten to mention he was tiny and used way too much product on his hair, but he had already told everyone he’d check the guy out so when they finally met, he kind of had to. It was a matter of honour.) So why did he chicken out at Callbacks? Why is the prospect of being shot down suddenly so terrifying? It isn’t like there aren’t any other fish in the sea, especially in the waters of New York city.   
  
After mulling over it for two days, Sebastian is no closer to finding out what’s up with that, and it’s freaking annoying. He makes up his mind to let nothing show to Kurt, though. When he comes around for the tutoring session later, Sebastian is determined to play it cool.

  
When Kurt finally arrives, Sebastian opens the door in his bathrobe and lets him in wordlessly. Kurt glances down at his attire, frowns, and walks in. He sits down on the couch and takes out a magazine. Sebastian follows him and sits down too. Kurt turns a few pages in silence and then looks up at Sebastian.

“I’m fine with not speaking to you, you know. You already gave me an advance for this lesson. So this whole…” he gestures at Sebastian’s robe, “passive-aggressive I-can’t-even-be-bothered-to-get- dressed-for-you thing isn’t really working. If you don’t want me here, just say so.”

Sebastian scoffs. For a moment he contemplates the idea, but then he remembers his father. He doesn’t really want to find out what happens if he has to tell him he got rid of his tutor and flunks French. He lets out a long, suffering sigh, gets up, and takes his notepad from his bag. After five minutes of terse Q&As about the French news, Kurt gives up.

“Okay. What’s going on?” he asks. “Does this have something to do with Callbacks?”

Sebastian frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You came, and then you left before even saying hello.”

“That’s my usual tactic.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You looked busy,” Sebastian says, more defensively than he intends. Kurt’s judgemental expression is calling it out in him. “I didn’t feel like waiting until you were done collecting phone numbers.”

Kurt stares at him for a moment. Then he laughs. “Are you… Are you actually jealous?” he asks, grinning.

“No! Of course not,” Sebastian replies.

“Of course not,” Kurt echoes smugly.

Sebastian gets up and pulls the bathrobe tightly around him. He pulls his mother’s money from his pocket and hands Kurt a twenty dollar bill. “I changed my mind. Here’s the rest for this hour. Let’s just pretend we rehashed the verbs, I made some inappropriate remarks, you told me to knock it off, and then you left. Off you go.”

“No, I want to hear about this,” Kurt insists, ignoring the money and still laughing a little. “Did you expect me to sit there by myself hoping you’d grace me with your presence? I’m not Lindsay.”

Sebastian cocks his head and gives Kurt a questioning look.

“Your maths tutor?” Kurt supplies. “About this tall-” he gestures at his shoulder, “cute as a button, plays Candycrusher a lot?”

“What about her?” Sebastian asks, feeling confused.

“She’s completely crushing on you,” Kurt says, and Sebastian can almost hear the 'doh’ in his voice. “I sometimes run into her in the lobby. She told me all about you. _You’re so charming and you always get her coffee…_ You haven’t even told her you’re gay, have you? Is that why she accepts that you only pay her twenty-five dollars an hour? Because you pretend she has a chance with you?”   
  
Sebastian frowns. He _might_ have noticed the girl’s crush, and _maybe_ he encouraged her a little, but not because of the money. Just because it felt good to be wanted. Not that he’d ever tell Kurt that. He raises his chin instead and pretends Kurt guessed right.  
  
Kurt shakes his head to show his disapproval. “Well, I told her you’re in love with someone else and she should ask for 35.”

“What?!” Sebastian lets out. “You outed me?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Of course I didn’t. I never said it was a boy or a girl. Just that you were unavailable, which you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s only fair to pay her the same as you pay me.”

“I was giving her five dollars more than she asked for!” Sebastian replies angrily. “Now I suddenly have to pay her ten dollars on top-”

“…of your parents’ money,” Kurt adds. “I’m sure they can afford it.” He makes a point of looking around the hotel room.

Sebastian groans. “That’s not the point,” he says. “They already think I’m paying both of you fourty an hour.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “You’re…stealing from your own parents?” he asks, judgement dripping from his voice.

“No, I’m not,” Sebastian bites back. “Just taking an advance on my allowance.”

Kurt sighs. “Why do you insist on breaking all the rules normal people live by, Sebastian?”

It’s a fair question, and it’s not the first time Sebastian has been asked the same thing. When his parents do it, it’s usually rhetorical, though. Kurt looks like he’s actually expecting an answer.   
  
“Because if I don’t, I get expelled anyway,” Sebastian replies curtly. He drops the twenty dollar bill on Kurt’s magazine and walks towards the window, turning his back on Kurt. He can just leave now and take his judgemental face with him.   
  
But Kurt isn’t done yet. “That’s probably because you break the rules 90% of the time, Sebastian. You can’t expect people to just forget that if you make your mind up to be nice that day.”

Sebastian turns on his heels and glares at Kurt. “I know that, okay?!” he yells. “But did you ever think- just _maybe_ \- I started out being nice and people assumed the worst anyway? _Oh, his parents are loaded, he’s probably a brat. Oh, he’s gay, he probably sleeps around_ ,” Sebastian continues angrily. “The odds were always against me. It’s not like I could have disappointed anyone even more by actually doing what they thought I was doing anyway.” He pauses to breathe. Kurt is staring at him, and Sebastian wants to lash out and include Kurt in his accusation. “Yeah. So go ahead and assume I paid Lindsay less because she made the mistake of liking me, Kurt. Why not? I’m sure it’s not the worst thing you thought about me.”

Kurt bites his lip. His fingers are playing with the banknote absent-mindedly while he looks at Sebastian. Then, without speaking, he gets up, pockets the money, and takes up his bag. Sebastian turns away and listens to him leave without saying anything. Maybe this is why he failed to make a move at Callbacks. It is impossible to live up to Kurt’s standards- not if you’re Sebastian Smythe, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

When their usual day for tutoring comes around and Kurt hasn’t confirmed via text as he normally does, Sebastian doesn’t feel very surprised. He knows what Kurt thinks of him, and shouting at him has probably not improved that image. He’s still annoyed with himself for actually caring enough to sink to that level. Their last meeting has left him feeling just like he had after apologising for the things he did to their Glee club and Kurt questioned his sincerity - all he can think of is that he’s not good enough. Which is a pretty shitty thing to feel. He used to think his dad had the monopoly on that, but apparently, Kurt Hummel and his judging eyes come in a close second.  
  
On top of that, he’s probably going to flunk French now, unless he can find a new tutor soon.  
  
To cheer himself up, Sebastian goes down to the hotel’s pool. It’s seven pm on a Friday, so he has the place to himself. Everyone else is off enjoying their weekend; something he would do too if he had money and, oh yeah, wasn’t grounded. He switches on the heating for the jacuzzi and goes to swim a few laps in the large pool while it starts up. He is just about to climb out and relax in the hot tub when he hears someone.  
  
“You were right, you know,” Kurt says, stepping into the light. Mist from the pool swirls around his legs, and the water reflects light patterns on his face. Sebastian stops his wading towards the ladder and looks up at him, for a moment not sure if he’s really there. “It wasn’t the worst thing I have thought about you.”  
  
Kurt’s words remind Sebastian of his little tirade, and something hard comes over his face. Putting on a mask of indifference feels like slipping under a warm blanket for Sebastian. “Oh yeah?” he replies, making sure Kurt hears how he doesn’t care at all.  
  
“Mmm,” Kurt confirms, crossing his arms over his chest. “In high school, I used to think you were evil incarnate.”  
  
Sebastian lets it slide off him like the droplets of water that are coursing down from his hair. Then he realises Kurt used past tense. “And now?” he asks despite himself.  
  
Kurt sighs deeply and looks a little annoyed. Either with him or with himself, Sebastian can’t tell. “Now…I think I maybe owe you an apology for jumping the gun.”  
  
Sebastian does a double-take. It’s rather unsettling to be apologised to when you were expecting to be insulted. He drops his guard for a moment, and then quickly schools his face into a neutral expression again. “Do what you want,” he says, hoping it sounds flippant.  
  
“I always do,” Kurt replies. He looks around the pool. “So, have you practised your vocabulary?”  
  
Sebastian just looks at him.  
  
“Two sessions ago I told you to memorise the words from chapter five of your textbook. We didn’t go over them last time,” Kurt continues, sounding as if he isn’t standing by the edge of a pool with water slowly drenching his suede shoes.  
  
“We’re gonna do this now? Here?” Sebastian asks. “I didn’t think- I haven’t… I don’t have any money on me,” he quickly decides. That’s what Kurt cares about most, and which is the sole reason he is here.  
  
“Your mom already paid me,” Kurt says casually. “I like this pool. Are your parents paying the hotel extra to rent it for you or is it just a coincidence that you’re the only one using it?”  
  
Sebastian is about to snap onto the taunt about his parents’ money when the other thing Kurt said gets through to him. “You talked to my mom?”  
  
Kurt nods. “Well, yes. I thought you’d be at your hotel room so that’s where I went first. She’s quite nice in person. We only spoke on the phone so far. I told her it’s okay to pay me 35 dollars an hour from now on.”  
  
Sebastian lowers himself into the water until he’s submerged to the bridge of his nose, peering out of the pool at Kurt like an angry crocodile for a moment, intent to stare him into going away. Kurt doesn’t budge. Then the urge to know gets too big. Sebastian puts his feet down and rises up from the water again. “Did you tell her about the rest of the money?”  
  
Kurt pauses, and Sebastian knows he’s doing that deliberately. “No,” Kurt finally says. “I figured you had already spent it anyway so you couldn’t give it back, and she’d probably be angry.”  
  
“Probably, yes,” Sebastian agrees, which is the understatement of the century- especially if word would have gotten out to his dad. “Thanks, I guess.”  
  
Kurt shrugs. “I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t want them to dismiss me. I still think it’s pretty wrong to steal from your own parents.”  
  
Sebastian waits it out. Kurt might say he’s only here for the money, but apparently he’s also here to lecture him on his morals. Sebastian has almost checked out mentally, pondering what Kurt would look like in Speedos, when the other man continues.  
  
“But since you won’t be doing that again, I figured we should let the past rest and focus on the future. One in which you pass your French exam.” He cocks his head and gives Sebastian a pointed look.  
  
“You really want to tutor me here?” Sebastian asks.  
  
Kurt makes a show of looking at his wristwatch. “I have until 8:30, so either we do this now or I go home. I don’t have time to wait until you finished showering and styling your badly grown-out buzzcut.”  
  
Sebastian opens his mouth, comes up empty for a barbed reply, and snaps his jaws shut again. (He actually agrees that his hairstyle is kind of in the middle of something and nothing right now, neither short or long). “But I was about to get into the jaccuzzi,” he protests instead, and then a brilliant idea hits him. They are alone; Kurt is still hot, and they aren’t surrounded by his singing and dancing NYADA competitors now. It’s worth a try, even if the chances of success are very slim.  
  
Sebastian softens his expression with a half-smile. “You could join me…?”  He braces himself. In his mind, Kurt’s possible responses are tied 50-50 between A) prissy outrage or B) a disdainful laugh. He wouldn’t have put any money on the third option: Kurt’s eyes widen slightly, rake over Sebastian’s near-naked form in the pool, and then narrow deviously.  
  
“Too easy, Sebastian,” Kurt replies. “How about I test your vocabulary, and for every correct word, I lose a piece of clothing?” He runs a finger under the revers of his jacket.  
  
Sebastian stares at him. Is he for real? “Strip…French?” he asks, not sure if he really heard correctly. Kurt nods, and the half-lidded look he gives Sebastian sends a shiver down his spine. Either Kurt knows he’s going to win - or he has no intention to. Either way, Sebastian has nothing to lose. “Okay, I’m in.”  
  
Kurt smiles and puts his bag down on a bench by the pool side. He takes out his text book. “Alright. Big.”  
  
Sebastian smirks. “ _Grand_.” Easy.  
  
Kurt mirrors his smirk and sits down on the bench to take off one of his shoes. He rests his socked foot on the wood so it doesn’t get wet. “Small.”  
  
“ _Petit_.”  
  
The other shoe follows. Sebastian feels like he is winning already. Is Kurt just picking the easy words?  
  
Kurt wriggles his toes on the bench. “Inexpensive.”  
  
Sebastian falters. “Uh,” he starts, trying to visualise the list of words from that lesson. He hasn’t looked at it for a week. He knows he knows this one. “In…. no, wait-”   
  
Kurt, in the process of picking up his shoe again, pauses.

“ _Peu…coûteux_ ” Sebastian lets out triumphantly.  
  
“Your diction is atrocious,” Kurt comments, but puts down the shoe and takes off a sock. They volley back and forth, and Kurt drives Sebastian crazy with just how many layers he is wearing. As the jacket reveals a vest, a shirt _and_ an undershirt underneath, Sebastian groans. He’s still in the main pool, and his body is cooling down. He kind of wants to go into the hot tub already, but he’s afraid the warmth might make him drowsy and unable to focus, and he definitely wants to win this game before Kurt has to leave. Kurt is barefoot now, and down to his skinny jeans and a sleeveless shirt. His arms look fantastic. The cut of the shirt isn’t bad for framing his torso either. If Kurt had looked like this in high school, Sebastian would never have gone after Blaine, bet or not.  
  
The next word is wrong, and Kurt reaches for his other shirt. “Oh, come on,” Sebastian pleads. “I’m freezing in here.”  
  
“You want to graduate, don’t you?” Kurt asks innocently, but his hand stays and he doesn’t pull the shirt over his shoulders. He pretends to think. “I suppose we could speed it up…”  
  
Sebastian holds his breath.  
  
“I’ll tell you something in French, and if you are able to translate it, I’ll join you.” Kurt smiles. “It doesn’t have to be literally. Just the gust of it will do.”  
  
Sebastian agrees. He has long since given over the reigns in this game. Whatever Kurt wants, he’ll play. It’ll probably be hard, but he has lived in Paris for a few months. He should be able to get some words and maybe he can guess the rest.  
  
“Alright,” Kurt says, and carefully folds his shirt before walking over to the edge of the pool. He starts to dictate, his French fast and fluent, and Sebastian struggles to piece together something coherent.  
  
“ _I am sorry for saying-_ something, I don’t… _something bad? Bad things! About you. I apologise. I am an arrogant, childish boy who thinks he is better than everyone else and my French is awful_ -” Sebastian scowls as he follows Kurt with his eyes. Kurt is slowly circling the pool, speaking into the damp air like he is reciting a poem. Sebastian knows this is payback, and he’s beginning to doubt if Kurt will actually hold up his end of the deal or if he is just doing this to humiliate him.  He is about to put a stop to it when Kurt continues, very slowly, as if he’s daring him to keep up. “ _But I am not as bad as I want people to think I am. It’s a pose. An-._.. uh… _irritating pose. I promise to stop that immediately. I will not insult the people who are trying to help me. And I will… change… my hair?_ ”  
  
Kurt stops in front of him and nods approvingly. Sebastian suddenly notices that he has taken off his undershirt. “Deal?” he asks in English.  
  
“Okay,” Sebastian agrees hoarsely. The cold water does nothing to cool him down now. Kurt smiles and walks over to the jacuzzi. Sebastian wastes no time getting to the pool’s ladder but swims to the edge instead and pulls himself out of the water. He nearly slips on the floor because he keeps his eyes on Kurt, ignoring the wet tiles. Kurt is peeling off his skinny jeans and for once, does not reveal yet another layer underneath…  
  
Feeling he ought to keep up, Sebastian slips off his swimming trunks and climbs into the jacuzzi. Kurt is already in the water. He can feel Kurt’s eyes on him and he flexes his pecs a bit for effect. Kurt’s eyes, however, are pointed lower.  
  
“I guess you were really freezing, huh?” he teases.   
  
“Oh, shut up,” Sebastian replies selfconsciously. He almost breaks his promise about not insulting Kurt, but the other man moves through the water, graceful as a merman, and doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of him. It makes the words evaporate on Sebastian’s lips. He licks them. “Are we doing this?” he asks. Kurt’s advances are welcome, but confusing. A small part of him is still wary this might be part of some elaborate plan to mock him. (The larger part, pun intended,  is quite ready to push all worries aside and just get down to it).  
  
“Well…It _is_ on my bucket list,” Kurt says, like that explains everything, and he runs a hand up Sebastian’s arm, his fingertips tracing the muscles in his arm.  
  
“What is? Sex in a pool? In public? Or sex with a guy you hate?” He never really marked Kurt down as a kinky guy, but hidden waters…  
  
Kurt shakes his head a little. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “Not anymore, anyway.”  
  
It reminds Sebastian of the words Kurt made him translate. “So you really think I’m not that bad?”  
  
“I think you try to be, because it’s easier,” Kurt replied. “Being nice to people, allowing them to be nice to you…it takes courage. The people you choose to trust have power over you.”  
  
There’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago. Sebastian has seen it before: during their first French Q&A. “Like Blaine?” he asks carefully. The hand that had been exploring his chest stills.  
  
Kurt presses his lis together in a thin smile. “He cheated on me. Twice. That I know of, anyway. Probably more.”  
  
Sebastian winces. He would have been one of the guys Blaine cheated with Blaine hadn’t turned down his advances. He never considered how Kurt would feel about that back then. Sebastian never really considered anyone’s feelings about the things he did; not until David Karofsky. He isn’t sure if he should apologise. Nothing ever happened between him and Blaine, and if Blaine’s cheating is the reason Kurt is with him now, in the pool, he can’t really feel bad about that either.   
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt continues as if he has read Sebastian’s mind. “I’m better off without him.” He looks back at Sebastian. “It’s a lot more fun to be single in New York City than pining over someone who’s far away.”  The mischievous look in his eyes is back.

Sebastian’s body picks up the cue and reminds his brain of the fact that they are both naked and this would be a great moment to get back into the mood. “Is it?” he asks playfully, letting his hands glide through the water to wrap around Kurt’s waist.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Kurt replies, giving in to the pressure of Sebastian’s hands and moving closer. He straddles Sebastian’s knees, but keeps the length of Sebastian’s thighs between them.  
  
“So do you do this often?” Sebastian asks, trying to raise his knees from the seat to make Kurt slide down against him, but Kurt braces himself for now. It’s maddening to be this close and having to wait, but the look in Kurt’s eyes tells Sebastian being patient will be worth it.  
  
“Get naked during a tutoring session?” Kurt jokes. “No. But if you play your cards right I might do it more often in the future.”

Sebastian grins. “That sounds like a very good motivation to learn my vocabulary.”

“I thought so,” Kurt agrees, and finally relents. He slides forwards on Sebastian’s lap, spreading his thighs to rest them on either side of Sebastian’s waist as he presses him against the wall of the hot tub with his body. His skin is even warmer than the water. He latches his lips onto Sebastian’s throat in a hard kiss and rolls his hips forward.

Sebastian had not imagined making out with Kurt would be like this. Somehow he had always imagined him to be more passive, receptive, malleable to his touch. Instead, he feels like his body is being consumed, drawn into his embrace, like Kurt really is a merman and Sebastian his drowning but willing victim. Kurt’s hand is between their bodies now, stroking them together as he keeps up his kisses, leading up to Sebastian’s ear. “Do you still have those condoms in your pocket?”

“Hnng– yes,” Sebastian brings out, and Kurt stills his hand. He sits up and looks at Sebastian. His eyes are stormy with lust. “Then why don’t you-” he starts. The main lights over the pool switch on. Kurt freezes.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” a voice calls out from the doors at the other side of the pool. A woman in a hotel uniform peers at them over her trolley full of cleaning utensils. “Mr Smythe?” she asks. “I need to start cleaning here.”

Sebastian groans. “Hey Miranda,” he calls back. “Um. We’re not exactly decent.”

Miranda hesitates for a moment, then checks her watch. She picks up a “closed for cleaning” sign from her cart and a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She raises both up so they can see. “Five minutes, boys,” she tells them, and walks out, leaving her cleaning supplies by the door. They can hear her putting the sign out in front of the pool entrance.

“Wow,” Kurt whispers. “She seems to like you. I’m impressed.”

Sebastian smirks. “She says I remind her of her son.”

“Poor woman,” Kurt teases. He glances at Sebastian’s lips for a moment. “I need at least three minutes to get dressed. Shall we just…?” He reaches back down to circle both of their erections in his hand.

Sebastian closes his eyes and sighs in defeat. It’s better than nothing. Kurt nudges his jaw with his face.

“Hey,” he whispers. “It’s still weeks till your exams. Your mom’s not always going to be in your apartment, right?”

Sebastian looks at Kurt. “Right,” he agrees.

“Good. Because I have plans for you on that couch,” Kurt announces. Sebastian wants to say something, anything- some sort of comeback along the lines of ‘not if I fuck you there first’ - but the tightening of Kurt’s hand and simultaneously applied kiss on his lips shut him up completely.   
  
Maybe karma hadn’t been out to get him after all.


End file.
